


Up Three Flights of Stairs

by indecisive_scribophile



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon X OC - Freeform, F/M, Romance, but i'm kinda proud of it so i hope you enjoy reading it, i basically wrote this for my own entertainment, this is really cheesy and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisive_scribophile/pseuds/indecisive_scribophile
Summary: “Well, the love of my life is waiting for me up three flights of stairs and I can’t keep her waiting any longer. Goodnight, Mrs. Holt.”A story in which Shiro and Emelia celebrate their fourth year of being in a happy relationship. With all of the main 'Ice Age' movies and a huge, fluffy blanket, the two snuggle up close and realise that they're the happiest when they're with each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DISClAMER: All characters mentioned in this story besides Emelia Orielle DO NOT belong to me. 'Voltron: Legendary Defender' belongs to DreamWorks. All rights reserved.

“Happy anniversary, Em.”

An instantaneous grin exploded onto Emelia’s face as soon as she heard her boyfriend’s voice through her phone. She covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her grey hoodie as she giggled.

“Happy anniversary, Shiro,” Emelia echoed. She kicked her feet up on her apartment couch, melting into its side. “What are you doing? It’s late.”

“It’s one in the morning, so technically, it’s early,” Shiro rebutted. He chuckled, and Emelia’s heart soared. “I’ll be home in five minutes. I’m outside now; I’ve just got to climb the stairs.”

“You mean the three flights of stairs we have to climb every time we want to go outside because our landlady’s too stingy to repair the apartment elevator?” Emelia took a deep breath, still smiling. “Where’ve you been?” She shifted her position on the couch, lulling her head back. She held her phone high above her head and put the call on speaker so that she no longer had to hold it. She then placed it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“The milk bar,” Shiro answered without hesitation. His voice was soft, yet assertive and low. “Ah, hang on, Em,” he quickly interrupted before Emelia could say anything. “’Morning, Mrs. Holt.”

Emelia smiled. Mrs. Holt: the landlady she was talking about before. She was a sweet and beautiful lady in her late thirties with a cunning smile; quite different to the stereotypical grumpy, old grandma landladies you read about in books. Emelia was surprised Mrs. Holt was still up at this hour. It was late— _early_ , and Emelia didn’t know her to be one to stay up to hours as dark as this. Then again, Emelia was very rarely out at this time, so she had no room to judge Mrs. Holt.

Through the phone, Emelia heard a faint rustling noise—the sound of plastic bags, she presumed. Had he gone grocery shopping? At this late— _early_?

Emelia gathered that Shiro had most likely put his phone next to his thigh as he spoke to the apartment complex’s landlady. Their voices were muffled as they spoke, but Emelia could still make out what they were saying if she closed her eyes and concentrated on the fuzzy noise coming out of her phone.

“Hello, Shiro,” Mrs. Holt said. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I was at the milk bar buying milk,” Shiro answered simply. Emelia stifled a chuckle; that was a funny sentence. She then chuckled at how childish her inner commentary was.

“It’s one AM. Are you _sure_ you were buying _just_ milk?” Emelia rolled her eyes; Mrs. Holt was always like this—a little too cautious and a little too invasive. She always had good intentions, though.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shiro said almost accusatorily. He cleared his throat, and his voice got louder the closer he brought his phone to his ear. “Well, the love of my life is waiting for me up three flights of stairs and I can’t keep her waiting any longer. Goodnight, Mrs. Holt.”

“Goodnight, Shiro.” Mrs. Holt’s voice was now far away, barely audible through the phone.

Emelia heard Shiro chuckling as he approached what she assumed was the stairs. She rolled her eyes, yet her smile didn’t falter. Emelia hadn’t stopped smiling since Shiro had picked up the phone a few minutes earlier, and she certainly wasn’t about to stop now. She cupped her right cheek with her sleeved hand, grinning into it.

“So, _my love_ ,” Emelia mocked sweetly, “are you going to be taking a shower when you get here?”

“That depends. Are you going to be accompanying me?” Shiro hummed slyly.

“Shiro!” Emelia laughed. She crossed her right leg over her left, completely disregarding how you’re meant to courteously sit on a couch.

“I think I will. The gym was packed today. There were the usuals, but I think they brought all of their friends along or something.”

“Who, Lance and Keith?” Emelia sniggered at the thought of the two boys. They claimed to be rivals, but they acted more like best friends—according to Shiro, anyway.

“Yeah. Lance brought along some guy named Hunk, and Keith…” Shiro’s voice trailed off. “Oh, whoops. Keith brought along Mrs. Holt’s daughter. I think…I think her name was Pidge, but I can’t remember.”

 “And you didn’t think to tell Mrs. Holt that you saw her daughter at the gym?”

“Hey, I only _just_ remembered.”                                                            

Emelia hummed, unconvinced. “Well, I’ll shush now and let you have your daily workout.”

“What, climb the stairs? That’s hardly a workout.”

“For me it is. And besides—you run a gym. Of course _you’re_ not going to be pooped when you walk up three flights of them.”

“You have a fair point.”

Emelia closed her eyes and patiently waited for Shiro to silently climb his way up the stairs. She couldn’t wait for him to get home; she’d already prepared everything for their night in together the day before, unbeknownst to Shiro. What more did you need than all of the main ‘ _Ice Age_ ’ movies and a huge, fluffy blanket?

Exactly.

After a couple of minutes, Emelia was brought out of her little moment of silence by Shiro’s voice once more. “I’m home. Could you open the door? My hands are full.”

Emelia groaned, standing up. “With?”

“Milk. From the milk bar.”

Emelia laughed, bending over the coffee table her phone was resting on and ending the phone call. In her fuzzy teal socks, she lazily shuffled past their kitchen and through their hallway. Shiro was lucky it was him who was at the door; had it been another person, Emelia wouldn’t have so kind as to unlock the door for them. She grabbed the house keys off of their hook next to the door and pulled it open.

“Hello, love of my life,” Shiro grinned, quirking his eyebrows upwards. Emelia melted. You’d think after four years she’d get over the way he did that whenever he came home late at night, but no. Shiro leaned down and Emelia stood on the tips of her toes, the two meeting halfway for a sloppy kiss. A shiver raced down Emelia’s spine; she clearly wasn’t over that, either.

“Good morning, Shiro.”

Emelia gazed up at Shiro for what seemed forever, studying the features of his face that she’d grown to love over the last few years. His naturally long eyelashes made his smiling, charcoal eyes look bigger than they actually were, and the bridge of his angular nose ran down the length of his face. Across it was a long scar that stopped halfway between both of his pale cheeks. He’d gotten it in a fight that neither of them wanted to recall. His lips – thin, yet rosy and somehow not chapped – quirked up at the corners, the right slightly higher than the left. His subtle smile was what was killing Emelia softly, and in that sense, she supposed she could handle a little masochism.

Emelia snapped back to reality when Shiro tried to shuffle past her with two plastic bags in each hand. She looked down at them, then back up at Shiro before closing the front door.

“The milk, I presume?”

“Ah, yes. I bought eight two litre bottles of milk at the milk bar because they were all on sale,” Shiro said nonchalantly. He slipped off his sneakers and gently shoved them next to Emelia’s comparatively smaller pair. He hopped into his fluffy, black lion slippers in favour of his comfortable work shoes.

“Are…are you serious?” Emelia asked incredulously, eyeing the white plastic bags. Shiro lumped all of them on their white kitchen bench, exhaling deeply. It was only when they didn’t land with a hard thud that Emelia knew he was joking. Peering into the bags only confirmed this, as they were filled with her favourite chocolaty goods.

“I wasn’t exactly lying when I said I was buying milk.” Shiro quickly began to justify himself, much to Emelia’s entertainment. She tucked the stray strands of her short, ash-black hair behind her right ear. “I mean, chocolate _is_ made from milk, so…”

“Nice save,” Emelia laughed. She laughed even more when she pulled out an actual two-litre bottle of almond milk out of one of the bags. “Didn’t really need it, though.” She threw Shiro an amused look, to which he shook his head, smiling.

“I’m going to head to the shower,” Shiro called out as he walked away from the kitchen. “Are you okay to put those all away?”

“’Course I am,” Emelia smiled. “I won’t be joining you tonight. Tomorrow, maybe?”

Shiro nodded, turning on the light in another hallway. “It’s a date, then.”

As Shiro turned the corner into the hallway and the bathroom, Emelia placed the bottle of cold almond milk on her forehead, and she closed her eyes once more. She sighed.

Gosh, was she in love with this man.

*

By the time Shiro was done in the bathroom, Emelia had already put away the things Shiro bought ‘at the milk bar’ in their respective places. (She rolled her eyes when she saw the Coles receipt in one of the plastic bags, shoving it into the jar in which they kept their receipts for taxes and all that jazz.) She put everything either into their pantry, fridge, or left it on the kitchen table for them to munch on during their anniversary night. When she was finished, only a couple of packets of chocolate chip cookies and Ferrero Rocheres were left on the bench, all of which she put on a ceramic plate.

 “Em?” Shiro called out once he stepped out of the bathroom. Walking into their living room, Emelia saw that he’d exchanged his black hoodie and gym shorts for a violet, oversized sweater and a pair of grey sweatpants. He had his hands shoved into his sweatpants pockets, and his two-toned hair was damp from the shower.

Emelia grinned upon seeing the man. She had already set down the plate of cookies on their coffee table and was wrapped in half of a fluffy blanket the same colour as her teal socks. She softly patted the empty space next to her on the couch, gesturing for Shiro to come and join her. And so, he did. The couch shifted at the change in weight, but other than that, Emelia’s curled-up position remained untouched. She wrapped the other half of the blanket around Shiro, sharing it with her beanstalk of a boyfriend.

“What is it this year?” Shiro asked, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. “’ _High School Musical_ ’? ‘ _Mean Girls_ ’? Disney marathon?” When Emelia shook her head, Shiro cocked his head to the side, sighing. “Don’t tell me we’re doing ‘ _Shrek_ ’ again.”

Emelia chuckled. “No, we’re not having a repeat of last year—though, you know…some _body once—_ ”

She was quickly silenced by a gentle jab to her stomach. “No, no, no. No _All Stars_ tonight.”

Shiro fiddled with a few buttons on the black remote, pointing it at the flat-screen TV mounted on their cream walls. The DVD player underneath it opened, revealing the white-and-brown label on the DVD inside it.

“’ _Ice Age_ ’?” he asked incredulously. Emelia merely laughed, nodding as the DVD retreated back into the player. “Haven’t we watched this together already?”

“If we have, then it was probably during our first year together,” Emelia shrugged. She nestled into Shiro’s side, pushing her body up against his. Instinctively, Shiro put his prosthetic right arm around her head and nestled his hand on her hip. Emelia smiled contently, resting her head on his chest.

They both waited in silence for the movie to start. Emelia didn’t know if they would get through all five movies that night. Actually, scratch that—they wouldn’t. Five movies was so far-fetched compared to the measly two she’d loved as a teenager. Back then, times were much simpler…

But back then, she wasn’t nearly as happy as she was now.

“Em? Em? _Em?_ ”

Emelia snapped back to reality, smiling. She shifted slightly so that she could reach for the cookies on the table. “Hmm? Sorry?”

As Emelia handed a cookie to Shiro for him to eat, Shiro asked, “Where are you?”

“Right here.” Emelia thought about it for a second, then put her left hand on Shiro’s thigh and reached upwards, sweetly kissing Shiro’s jaw. She playfully scowled. “You haven’t shaved.”

Shiro, whose cheeks were dusted a faint pink, shook his head. “Don’t need to shave if I’m with you.”

Emelia sighed, melting into Shiro’s arms just as she did with the couch about half an hour earlier. “Is this really the epitome of our relationship?”

“Who knows?” Shiro hummed thoughtfully. He took a bite of his cookie.

 Emelia furrowed her eyebrows. Absentmindedly, she started tracing circles on Shiro’s thigh with the tip of her forefinger. “’Who knows’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shiro stopped chewing for a moment, then swallowed. “Shh. The movie’s starting.”

*

As the credits rolled, Emelia yawned. She was tugging on one of the ends of the blanket, wrapping it around herself tightly. She eyed the (now empty) plate of chocolate chip cookies and Ferrero Rocheres, her eyes glazing over the ten-ish gold wrappers of the aforementioned chocolate. She glanced up at Shiro, who was already looking down on her. Emelia felt her face flush.

“So, what are we doing now?” Shiro asked expectantly.

“I don’t know.” Emelia shrugged. “Did you want to watch the second one?”

Shiro turned around, looking up at the clock on the wall behind them. “It’s about three in the morning, and I don’t know what we’ve got planned for the rest of the day.”

Emelia chuckled. “Guess we’ve just gotten an early start, then.”

“Touché.”

  Emelia took a deep breath, then rolled out of Shiro’s arms. She grabbed the plate of cookies and empty chocolate wrappers and headed in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m going to refill this. I’ll be back in a tick.”

 “So I guess this means we’re watching the second one?”

“Yep,” Emelia cheerfully replied from around the corner.

“I’ll put it on, then. The DVD’s on my bookshelf, right?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.”

As Shiro stood up to grab the DVD from his bedroom, Emelia shuffled her way in the dark in her fuzzy socks. She stumbled her way around the hallway, banging into one of the walls as she attempted to switch on one of the lights. When she did, she was temporarily blinded by how bright it was. Mumbling something about how she didn’t understand as to why they needed such a bright light for their kitchen, Emelia located the second batch of cookies Shiro bought from Coles. She emptied it out onto the plate and afterwards headed back into the living room—

—and there, sitting on the couch that was now surrounded by a ring of rose petals, was Shiro.

 Emelia instantly burst into laughter, almost dropping the ceramic plate in her hands. Shiro was grinning from ear to ear, and he looked like he was stifling as much laughter as Emelia was letting out.

“S-Shiro,” Emelia stuttered in-between quick breaths, “what…what is this?”

Shiro quirked an eyebrow and patted on the empty space on the couch in front of him. “Take a seat, my love.”

Emelia – who was now actually trying to suppress her laughter – raised her eyebrows in confusion, but still obliged after putting the plate of cookies down on their coffee table. She slowly sauntered over to the couch, no longer shuffling on the floor with her socks.

“Shiro…”

Emelia sat down on the couch, cross-legged and facing Shiro. After a moment of staring down at his lap, Shiro took a deep breath and took both of Emelia’s hands in his.

“Emelia.”

“Y-Yes?”

Emelia felt like her heart was going to leap out of her chest. What was he _doing_? Shiro gently squeezed her hands, and she squeezed back—mostly because she didn’t know what else _to_ do.

“It’s been four years since we first got together,” Shiro began. Emelia nodded. “And I—I’m glad that we did.”

“Me…me, too.”

Shiro smiled goofily, cocking his head to the side so that his white fringe fell over his eyes. “I mean…I—I was just a dorky university first-year, and you were there on our opening day, and I was trying to show you around when honestly, I myself was lost and didn’t know where I was going.” Emelia nodded a little too eagerly. “To think that we could never have met if I didn’t get lost on my way to my dorm…that’s a lot to handle.”

He was right—it _was_ a lot to handle.

“I…I don’t know what I would be doing now if I’d never met you. We wouldn’t have ever gone on our first date to the city on Christmas Eve, and w-we wouldn’t have ever kissed under the tree in Derate Square…” Shiro shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. When he did, they were filled with an overwhelming amount of passion that Emelia didn’t even know what to do with. “It’s scary, because the last four years of my life…they’ve—they’re revolved around you. You’ve been one of the most important people in my life, and without you, I definitely wouldn’t be this happy.”

Emelia’s heart was in her throat as Shiro’s prosthetic right hand let go of her left. He reached behind him, and out from somewhere in the couch, he pulled out a little, black box. Emelia was breathless; she didn’t know what to do or say or even _think_. Shiro maintained her eye contact the whole time, even as he slid off of the couch with a gentle thud. He awkwardly shuffled over to Emelia’s feet, clearing his throat.

He got on one knee.

He held the black, velvet box in both hands.

He opened the box.

Inside the box was a thin, gold ring embossed with two bright, blue rhinestones.

“E-Emelia Orielle,” Shiro continued, his charcoal eyes as soft as they could ever be, “will—will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

At this point, Emelia’s chin may as well have been on her chest. Her vision was hazy by the tears that were threatening to spill over, and her face was in her hands. Her chest was thumping like crazy, and no matter how hard she tried to control it, she wasn’t able to slow it down.

“E-Em—”

“Oh—oh, my God, _yes,_ Shiro, I’ll marry you!”

The words came out hoarse and cracked, much to Emelia’s chagrin. But she barely cared, for Shiro once again took her right hand into his left.

“M-May I?” he asked softly. Emelia nodded, noticing that he had a single tear streaming down his cheek. This only made the tears in her eyes completely spill over, gushing like a waterfall.

Emelia was speechless as Shiro clumsily pulled the ring out of the box, almost dropping it in the process. They choked out laughter, sniffing goofily at how dorky the whole situation was. But when Shiro delicately slid the gold band onto her ring finger…

Emelia felt like she was the luckiest woman alive.

*

The next morning, Shiro and Emelia walked down the three flights of stairs hand-in-hand to see Mrs. Holt hand-in-hand. Delighted to see her two favourite residents, Mrs. Holt cooed at the sight of their matching engagement rings.

“So, Shiro!” she began excitedly. “I see those rose petals you made me hang onto last night worked a charm!”

Emelia laughed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Holt,” Shiro said, smiling. He squeezed Emelia’s hand, and she squeezed back. “If you didn’t, I really would have had to go to the milk bar and buy a bouquet of roses. But I’m really glad you did, because the love of my life was waiting up three flights of stairs and I sure didn’t want to keep her waiting.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first piece for 2017, and I'm pretty happy with it. Sure, this is a Shiro X OC, but I hope that hasn't turned you away from this story in any way, shape, or form. Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed! Happy new year.


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